


The Intent of a Magician

by Louffox



Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF), Youtube RPF
Genre: Betting, Demons, Gambling, Gen, Jack is really badass and strong, Magic, Magicians, Mark is a magician and he summons Jack, Mark is also strong but still a cinnamon bun, No Smut, Summoning, Swearing, Violence, nonspecific era, spells
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-05 06:47:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11008152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louffox/pseuds/Louffox
Summary: Jack is a jaded, ancient demon who's reluctantly bound to magician after magician, unhappily enslaved and pretty obstinate about the whole thing.Then comes the time when he's summoned by a magician with youth, a conscience, and a baffling amount of power. This guy has weird commands and a weirder moral compass. This magician- Mark- is definitely making life more interesting for Jack.





	1. Enslaved

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy it's been a while.
> 
> If you've read the Bartimaeus Trilogy, it would be helpful, but if you haven't, you'll be fine. I don't like to go into long descriptions and explanations in the story, as it breaks up the plot, and I try to use the story itself to explain things. There are a few things that could get wordy, and I apologize. Unbeta'd and half written on a phone, in typical Jay style. Apologies. I hope you like it! There will be lots of chapters after this! I haven't finished writing the thing yet, but I'm on page 23 and I made myself an outline! Yay.

Jack knew what was happening at the first word. The familiar tug and faint nausea, as he began to pass from his place to their place, senses and forms and general laws of existence switching to theirs. He resisted, of course. It was like drowning- it was inevitable, to breathe the water, but one held out as long as possible. He knew he could not shake the summoning, but he fought it anyways, until the pull and power of the words was too much and he was yanked, like a babe from mother's breast, to their place.

 

Damn magic.

 

Jack was a bit irate about all this. It had been long enough that he'd begun to hope his name had been forgotten. No such luck. And the summoning was powerful, too. He hadn't just been dug up by some fool. This magician had power.

 

He chose a dragon form. Not too large- size wasn't really impressive, especially when you're so big that you were squished up against the edges of the pentagram. He decided to be just a tad taller than the magician himself, with copious barbs and spines. The final result was a more intelligent, conniving dragon, rather than a simple big brute. Good.

 

He opened his eyes and examined the magician who had summoned him.

 

He was surprised, though he didn't allow himself to show it. The magician was young. Old enough to be a man, but only barely, and certainly not who he'd expected to be using a summoning like that. From the strength of the magic alone, Jack would've guessed him to be a haggard old military man who's seen some shit in his life. Strength generally came from practice and experience, but it could also come from sheer will. Intention was the word for it. 

 

This guy had intention. A lot of it.

 

The magician spoke his name, and added several additional bindings. Jack waited in still silence, staring unblinkingly at the magician, feeling each tether- protection, obedience, honesty, loyalty, etcetera- tug at his being. He observed that his pronunciation was careful and rhythmic and perfect. It all was very confident and certain, but still careful and to the book. 

 

When it was finally done, the magician cleared his throat, and spoke directly to Jack. "Your charges are as follows: you are to accompany me at all times, as a butler, personal servant, driver, and body guard. My personal protection is priority. You will not interact with humans other than me."

 

"I am bound to do as you wish," Jack said dryly, in a low rumble befitting of a dragon. He didn’t expect to scare the kid, but he wanted to make it abundantly clear that he was old and smart and strong.

 

The magician nodded firmly, and gestured at him. "That form is inconvenient. You will masquerade in a human guise, unless an emergency requires something different. You will adapt to the situations presented to you. Human guise in public calm, such as now."

 

Jack obligingly changed to his usual human-like guise. He had first worn it when impersonating a mad runt brother to a Hibernian prince, who’d summoned Jack and intentionally revealed his true name in a suicidal attempt to kill the entire royal family. Jack and his kind could only mimic a human if they knew the human’s true name, and the mad runt had wanted Jack to impersonate him and assassinate the entire family. Jack, of course, did so with a bit more haste and gusto than necessary (it was millennia ago, he had been young) before turning on the runt and devouring him as well, swallowing the boy and his insane laughter whole. The death of the magician who summoned him released his bonds, and he left this place. This form was a tall, somewhat reedy young man, about the same age as the magician, with salt and pepper hair and a touch of scruff on his chin. Blue, intelligent eyes with just the right amount of mirth looked out from beneath wild brows to see whether the magician approved.

 

The magician looked over him and chewed his lip. "Maybe... Not taller than me." Jack dropped a few inches, until he was approximately four centimeters shorter than the magician. "And... You look too human. Do something to make it clear you're a demon in human guise." This was actually a fairly common demand. For some reason, humans were more unnerved by a perfectly ordinary human appearance than they were by giant dragons or worms or bugs or nearly any other form Jack had ever taken. Perhaps it unsettled them, that anyone could be a demon and they wouldn't be able to tell. He was prepared for the demand. The hair atop his head- not the sides or back- turned bright green. The magician looked like he wanted to say something else, but then just shook his head. He spoke Jack's name and a few syllables, and they both stepped from their pentagrams.

 

"So! I'm going to assume body guard is my main feature to you right now. Any hints on who I'm guarding you from?" Jack said, getting right to the point.

 

"What would cause you to assume that?" the magician asked.

 

"Well, I don't think a demon of my power is summoned just to be a butler," he said, a little proudly. "And you listed body guard last, like you were trying to make it sound like an afterthought."

 

He scowled. "I'm that obvious?"

 

"Yeah. Sorry, man. So- who's been threatening that pretty little ass?"

 

He wasn't disappointed- he received a small Shock for his crassness. But with a new magician, he could never resist testing the rules, seeing whether they were no-nonsense or if they had a sense of humor

 

"Nobody has been threatening me," the magician replied coolly. "But I sense a hostility around me."

 

"Why? Let me guess- you're a womanizer."

 

No punishment this time, Jack noted. He simply scowled. "I think my superiors are threatened by me. And I expect hostility is the default, but until I've acclimated enough to be able to separate general animosity and actual intent to harm, I need protection."

 

Jack scrutinized him again. He was dressed well- or, was trying to be dressed well. His suit was impeccably pressed and styled, not a button or wrinkle out of place, but was barely noticeably second-hand. His shoes shined. His back was straight and his head was held high. The glasses he wore were thick and were not only vision-correcting, but were tempered to show a bit more than that. Glasses such as these would allow magicians to see things that most humans couldn't. Things like moderate invisibility spells and low level Shields that could protect or conceal.

 

Well then.  Not all magicians had these.

 

"Good Christ, you're government," Jack moaned. "I've got my work cut out. Everyone is always trying to get everyone in the government, it's been that way since the beginning of time. And it only gets worse with each century. Folks these days assassinating and torturing each other- back in Ancient Rome, the senate used to just have slap fights right in the debates, but they all drank together as friends afterwards. There wasn’t the paranoia and petty grudges you lot have."

 

"Julius Caesar was assassinated."

 

"That one time, though."

 

"It doesn't matter how the government worked those days. This is the here and now, and I believe I have enemies everywhere."

 

"Paranoia, good. You're already fitting in well. And maybe it'll help keep you alive for a bit longer. But you're probably screwed anyways- you're young, genuinely talented, handsome, and have a splendid jawline. All things that government folk generally don't have."

 

"The government workers are those who have the ambition and intelligence to lead the country with order and care. We work hard for our commoners," the magician said firmly. Jack howled with laughter and got another Shock. 

 

"Fine. You're hard working and ambitious, whatever. I'm just here guard you, not educate you. What am I to call you?" Jack asked. 

 

"Mark. I am Mark."

 

"Well, Mark. What first?"

 

First apparently was a banquet. Jack was to be Mark's new valet, which was unexpectedly challenging. Jack had fought in wars that decided the fate of humanity and demons alike, he had watched the first light touch the new earth, he had broken hoards of enemies beneath his claws and had served the ancients, the wise, the fierce. He could walk through the fire and not be burned.

 

He could do all these things, but he could not drive a car.

 

He knew the concept. He simply hadn't been summoned recently enough to actually drive. There were things on the floor that made the car stop and go, and turning the wheel turned the vehicle. Right. Breaking hoards, witnessing light, serving the wise. Driving a car. He could do it all.

 

By the time they arrived at their destination, both of them were sweating profusely, and Mark was pale and irate. Jack half hoped he would dismiss him on the spot, but no such luck. 

 

The banquet was peaceful. Boring, even. Jack half wished his new master had pissed off more people, because the speeches were mind numbing. He observed the demons of others, and spoke quietly to Mark a few times, pointing out the stronger demons who wore concealments that were strong enough to repel Mark's lenses. Mark, in turn, pointed out each threat.

 

When the banquet ended, and the schmoozing finally dwindled, he drove Mark back to his residence, escorted him in, and then settled on the roof as a crow, standing guard. He silently resigned himself to a long, boring stint guarding this boring kid for a really long and boring time. Boring.

 

The next day, his boredom was disrupted, but in a very unwelcome manner.


	2. The Real Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His duty takes a turn for the odd. Jack isn't sure how to take it.
> 
> "What-... wait, what's your actual job title?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WAS AWAY ALL WEEKEND OR ELSE I WOULD'VE POSTED AGAIN
> 
> I hate starting out slow- I always want to get the first handful of chapters out quick so things don't get stagnant or slow. I hate the buildup. I hate having to explain things in story. I did here a bit, but I hope it's not too bad.

He silently resigned himself to a long, boring stint guarding this boring kid for a really long and boring time. Boring.

 

The next day, his boredom was disrupted, but in a very unwelcome manner.

 

Perhaps unwelcome wasn't the right word. It was... it...

It was turning into an ineffable gig, this thing he was doing with the young magician that practically radiated intention. Jack wasn't sure how to describe it. Odd. Unlike most services he'd done, and he'd been around for a very long time and had done a very large variety of things.

 

"I want you to wait outside," Mark told him as they walked to the tall building that he worked in. (Thankfully, it was close enough to Mark's residence that they could walk.)

 

"Wait outside? Are you serious?" Jack scoffed. He had found Mark was actually was unlikely to administer punishment in a normal situation. Verbal sparring and a bit of taunting was fine. Anything inappropriate or indecent was less tolerated. If Jack was honest, he would admit that Mark allowed him much more freedom of expression than almost all other masters he’d had. Many magicians considered any insubordination or back talk worthy of a good Shock. Demons were servants- they were to obey without hesitation, be seen and not heard, and serve their masters like mechanized, barely sentient things.

 

“I’m serious. Conceal yourself and keep guard. I’ll call if I need you,” Mark said confidently.

 

“I thought you were worried about other magicians.”

 

“I am.”

 

“And you’re going into a place full of them. The basket of snakes. Unprotected.”

 

“That’s right.”

 

Jack eyed him, then sighed. “Fine. If you die, at least I'll be dismissed. When can I expect to rendez-vous back up?”

 

“I’ll get in touch.” He squared his shoulders and walked into the building. Jack shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants (he’d begun the day with his reedy slightly-shorter green-haired human guise dressed in a medieval metal suit of armor, trying to irritate Mark, and was surprised to get a genuine laugh out of the magician before he requested a suit like his) and slouched into an alley, where he changed into a crow and alighted on the roof next door. Looking at Mark’s building with sharp demon eyes, he could see the haze of several high powered Shields around the building, and traps covering the roof like birthday candles. Magicians. A paranoid bunch, but with reason to be.

 

Fourty-three minutes later, Jack felt the tugs of a summoning.

 

This was not part of the plan.

 

He rushed through the spell and formed in his pentagram, assuming the shape of an enormous black bear with dark curving claws, paws the sizes of gallon jugs, and a slavering fanged mouth. He formed already roaring, the deep bellow of a demon prepared to obey his magician’s first order: protect.

 

Mark was sitting in the pentagram opposite, on a tall chair, a notebook open on his knees. He examined Jack with raised brows, nodding slightly, and then began to write something down.

 

Jack understood he’d been had. 

 

He displayed his displeasure by melting, the bear’s eyes dripping out of his face, and his teeth becoming more blurry and indistinct, and a putrid-smelling pool of black ooze forming below his dwindling bear shape. 

 

Mark’s nose wrinkled at the grotesque show. “Why are you doing that?”

 

“Why are  _ you _ doing  _ that _ ?” Jack said pointedly, his words forming in splashing bubbles atop his puddle of goop. The bear was entirely gone now.

 

“Stop being disgusting, pick yourself up. Be that green-haired guy again, I like that one. Sit up straight and have a decent conversation like we’re mature beings.”

 

Though it hadn’t been a proper command, Mark had enough intention that Jack felt the binding inside him tug warningly, so he complied. In a moment he was standing as a man and putting his hands on his hips in an irritated pose. The puddle was gone, but the smell lingered. “What is all this?” He gestured at the small room, where an observation window sat in one wall, and nothing else adorned it. It looked like a police questioning room, save for the pentagrams- Jack's containment and Mark's empowerment.

 

“Work.”

 

Jack squinted at him. “Work?”

 

Mark stopped writing and looked up. “How does your sight function?”

 

“How does my… what?”

 

“How does your sight work? Demon sight. I want to know about how you do it, how it works,” Mark repeated patiently. 

 

“It… it works great. I can see your stupid face on all seven planes of existence. What-... Wait, what's your actual job title?” Jack asked slowly, realization dawning.

 

“Junior Investigative Demonologist. I mean- how does your sight work, functionally? If you don’t have eyes, like when you were just a puddle, what’s your vantage point? Can you see in all directions around yourself? Does light impact your vision?”

 

Jack scrubbed his hands over his face, a stressed pose. “Investigative Demonologist. I thought I was a body guard, not a lab rat.”

 

“Yes, I’m an investigative demonologist. My current research is mainly focused on the biology of demons. Now that we’re all on the same page… And I apologize for making you sit outside, it’s considered more polite to summon a demon into the building, as well as easier- I’m sure you saw the Shields. Anyways, I’d like you to answer my questions to the best of your ability. I don’t want to have to command you. As I said, we’re both mature beings. Or- I assumed you were? I’ll make a note to have the discussion about maturation and development at a later time, we don’t have to get into that now,” he said, writing in his notebook again.

 

Jack tapped his fingers on his chin, but sat politely on a conjured stool that matched Mark’s. The kid was smart- he’d cornered him with his own ego. Jack wanted to look down on Mark for being so young, that was obvious, so Mark had given him a choice- to prove his own age and experience and play along, or undermine himself while uplifting Mark to be the more mature of them both. Clever. 

He would play along. “I suppose I’ve had worse jobs than lab rat, but this is one of the strangest for sure. Now, my sight… I have a sort of inner eye that operates much like normal eyes- one direction and focus with periphery. No omniscient  vision. Just the inner eye, that is not impacted by conditions the way a human’s is. For instance, darkness doesn’t hinder my sight.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“The planes that I can see- I told you I see all seven of them, the realities of the world superimposed over each other. The first plane is the mundane one, with objects and creatures like humans and basic animals. The second is much the same, but I can start to see power signatures and some low level magical workings that aren’t normally visible. And you've got the first two- with the help of those glasses. The third plane is where I can really start to see in the dark- natural auras of living things and magic give off enough radiance to light it. If I go all the way to the seventh plane, even organic but nonliving objects give off low level auras, enough to see by- like that wooden chair, or the clay in the plaster of the walls. And light doesn't work the same way you perceive it to, once you get up to the sixth and higher planes. It's not- I can tell what's dark and what's light, but they don't hinder or help me perceive the world around.”

 

“What does it feel like to switch from viewing plane to plane?”

 

“They’re superimposed- but I have to consciously look at each. I don’t always see all of them, except maybe the first two- I usually know what's going on with those without trying to switch. Higher from that, if I focus...”

 

They talked the entire day, breaking only twice for Mark to eat and use the restroom. It was actually… it was almost  _ fun _ . Jack had never had any interaction like this before. Mark’s questions were inquisitive and unique, often forcing Jack to pause and consider before answering. He’d never thought about the tracking speed of his inner eye, or the way he sorted through the planes of vision, or why the eyes he manifested in whatever form he assumed tracked with his inner eye. Mark was a good listener, and often expanded on questions. If you track this fast, then what about your focusing speed? Do the seven planes of vision, all superimposed on each other, display color differences? Had he ever heard of an eighth or ninth plane of vision?

 

When they finally left the building- the Shields were one-way, they walked out side by side- it was dark. Jack had hardly noticed the day pass, deep in discussion as they were.

 

Maybe this gig wouldn't be as tedious as he'd first believed. Mark was powerful, the work was interesting and engaging, and he wasn't fighting for his life or working hard labor. It was damn near cushy. A demon could get used to this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact- I'm sure you all know that Mark was going to college for a degree in Biological Engineering. Well. I went to college for a degree in Biological Engineering. Not in Cincinnati, somewhere else, but I've now finished my degree, and I've always absolutely loved it when Mark looses his shit about science or space or biology because it's something I'm very on board with. 
> 
> Like, his love for grid paper? I GET THAT. And even though I'm not in school and have a job where I can do what I want, I still take all my notes on engineering paper- it's pale green and has a very faint grid on it. Because. GRID. PAPER. YAS.
> 
> Thanks to TellMeeMoar, Redrose19, and The_angst_goblin for saying hi! And thanks to soupaperest for saying hi on tumblr! I hope to make all your dreams come true!


	3. A History Lesson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday so I'm posting an extra long chapter! I'm also thinking, weekly updates? On Tuesdays, maybe? I like to hold myself to a schedule so I don't get lazy and not post, or do the opposite- post everything I've got in a week and then have a long break while I write more. Y'know?

"Thank you for being so cooperative. It's rare that a demon is so engaging and forthcoming. Many believe they're giving up demon secrets to the enemy, or give mysterious answers with the intent to deceive or frighten. We often have to manipulate or force demons into cooperating."

 

Jack shrugged. "I came to terms with the power balance between a demon and a magician a long time ago. You guys usually get what you want, and the way I figure- rather than drag my feet and waste time and get punished, I might as well make it as painless as possible for all parties. I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't like you guys, and given the chance, I'd turn on you. I've killed magicians who've neglected to command no harm to themselves, or made mistakes with wording, or didn't draw the pentagrams right. I'm not a traitor to my kind, I'm just trying to pick only battles I can win. Play smart, not hard, you know?"

 

Mark nodded. "You sound like you've been in this for a long time. Have you had a lot of magicians?"

 

"More than my fair share, I'd say. Not recently, none in the past... it’s been a century, I think? But there was a while where I was summoned frequently. I spent a long time serving the princes of Hibernia, living in the rainy green season and the icy cold, buried in furs and sleeping for weeks on end. Then the southern empires came north and I changed hands. When Egypt was being built, I was summoned by magician after magician, a series of weak but ambitious masters. I devoured them, one after another. They underestimated me, and I was young and hungry. Finally I had a few proper masters, and then Egypt fell. My summonings were scattered for a long while, until the medieval times. I served knights for a while, until the plague struck. When people realized handling corpses seemed to spread the disease, they hired demons and hoards of imps to clean up- as we are not subject to disease. It was demeaning, for a while, until they realized that this could be used to their advantage. You humans love weaponizing things. I was selected to spread the plague."

 

"Spread it intentionally?" Mark said, clearly intrigued. 

 

"That's right. I was one of the higher powered demons on their command, and I could disguise myself even to their lenses. Many demons can disguise themselves, but only fourth level or higher demons, like myself, can deceive even lenses. They told me to take the guise of a human- I used this form, actually, sans the green hair- and to pose as a doctor. My robes were made of blankets taken from the beds of the dead, and my bird mask had the beak stuffed with more infected cloth. I brought subtle death to… gosh, I went all over France, and even into Spain, while my master and his group moved to hide in Ireland. Eventually, people realized I was bringing death instead of life, and my master ordered me to abandon stealth and take up fear instead. That's when the green hair came in, and I had bloodshot bleeding eyes as well. Frightening, but not overdone. People were terrified of me. I would enter town as a beggar, or a lost young man, and then reveal myself to be a bearer of the plague. I was known as Jack Septic-eye- anyone who came close enough to see the whites- or rather, reds- of my eyes was as good as dead. Luckily, I was eventually able to exploit a misspoken command and lead my master's enemies to his door. His death released me from my service.”

 

Mark mulled this over for a few moments as the entered the grocery and began collecting things to make dinner.

 

“What… what was your personal perception of that?”

 

Jack frowned in confusion. “How do you mean?”

 

“I mean… what did you think, about killing whole towns of people with the plague?”

 

It wasn’t a question he was expecting. “I… I didn’t like it. It’s one thing to take down a warrior in battle, or to find a clever loophole and devour a would-be master, but this was fearmongering and slaughter. It seemed dishonest and left a sour taste in my mouth. Honestly, I’ve never felt guilty about killing except for then. Those people had nothing to do with magicians or slavery or magic or war. So… I didn’t like it. But- what kind of question is that? ‘How do you feel?’ I thought you were into biology.”

 

“That’s why this is all off-the-record. I’m interested in biology, yes, and the functional mechanisms of demons, but I’m also curious about philosophy. I actually wouldn’t dare have this conversation at work. The Senior Investigators would have a headfit, deem it to be blasphemous or heresy. Demons are… well,  _ demons _ . Evil. From what I’ve observed, ‘demon’ is a misnomer. You’re not fallen angels or wicked corrupted spirits, you’re… another species of sentient being. The very word ‘demon’ seems archaic and outdated to me. Innacurate. It comes with all sorts of evil connotation, but you’re not inherently evil, you’re just another group of intelligent creatures trying to survive however you can.”

 

Jack was uncertain how to respond to this… this almost  _ kindness _ , from a magician, a master, someone who had essentially enslaved him. So he resorted to his favorite response. Sarcasm.

 

He slapped a hand to his chest, blushed bright red, and gasped loudly. “ _ Mark _ , I had no idea you thought of me in such a way!” he said in a breathy falsetto. Mark laughed.

 

“See? Behavior like that, it’s so very… relatable. There’s nothing wicked or even foreign about it. We’re so alike.”

 

“Yes, so alike. Same sense of humor, same sense of morals, same intelligence, same state of enslavement… oh, wait,” Jack pointed out, feeling as though this was getting maybe a bit  _ too _ friendly.

 

Mark looked a little sad. “I am sorry about that. But if I was to release you from your bindings, would you still devour me?”

 

“Absolutely,” Jack said without hesitation.

 

“Then we’re an an impasse. I’m sorry it has to be this way, but this is the situation: I cannot free you, because you could not spare me.”

 

It was an odd thing to say, a perspective Jack had never seen things from, but it wasn’t untrue. Jack had to be bound because Mark had to be killed. Demons killed magicians, and magicians enslaved demons. For either to deviate from that would be a betrayal of their very nature.

 

Jack said as much, and Mark simply nodded.

 

“And I understand that. I believe in science, but… I also understand nature.”

 

Jack's life fell into this strange rhythm. It wasn't the life of action that he was used to, but it was busy and engaging in its constant changing of roles. Starting the day as a sort of butler- at his grumblings, Mark summoned up a trio of imps for him to order around, so a demon of his level wouldn't have to do the menial tasks of cooking and cleaning. He directed the imps to make breakfast and then set them cleaning while he woke their master and dressed him in a freshly pressed suit. Then he would become the body guard and escort Mark to work, where he would loiter outside until he became the object of scientific study. And then after work, his role changed from lab rat to an escort and courier of sorts, carrying Mark's groceries home.

 

That was his favorite part of the day, because aside from being guard and courier, he was also very nearly something else as well; a companion.

 

During their walk to the shops and then home, they would have their real conversations. About history and philosophy and personal accounts. Jack mostly spoke of his life, as he spanned centuries while Mark had barely more than two decades, but occasionally Mark spoke of his past as well. These glimpses into his life was very peculiar. It brought him down in respect, made it harder to see him as 'master', but it brought him up as well, giving him a depth of character that Jack had hardly ever seen.

 

Jack's history felt almost like a caricature in contrast, dramatic and eventful in absurd proportions. Mark had so many simple events in his life that hardly qualified as events, but they seemed so much more real, and made the actually eventful memories seem all the more exciting. He spoke of his brother, who was in America, becoming a well-known newspaper cartoonist. He spoke of his deceased father, who had traveled with wars, and had all but forced Mark into becoming a magician, something Mark had once resented, but eventually he realized how far his father had gone to keep him off the front lines. He talked of his mother, who was a renowned dog breeder and trainer in a beautiful old family home on the shore of the Mediterranean Sea. His college friends, who were both magicians as well, but not nearly as skilled as Mark. 

 

This was an odd part of the conversation. Jack's experiences with humans had been fairly limited to magicians, a generally ambitious and dastardly crew, who only had friends who were convenient and useful, and wouldn't hesitate to cut each other down. But Mark missed his friends and wished they had been able to keep up. He almost seemed to mourn his aptitude for magic, sounding faintly resentful that this skill, which he only had by luck of the draw, had separated him from his friends. 

 

Peculiar.

 

“Why do you look like this?” Mark asked him one day, as he painstakingly selected only the best scallions from the basket in a shop.

 

“Cause you didn’t want a dragon or a bear following you around,” Jack replied.

 

“No, I mean- how did you pick that human guise? What made you decide to be male, or white, or to have facial hair, or to have blue eyes?”

 

“Oh. Well, I didn’t really piece this all together. I mean, I identify as male- demons don’t have form and shape and sex organs like humans do, in our place, we don’t have forms at all like we do here- but I always considered myself male. There are female demons as well, and those who switch as they please, and androgynous ones. It probably sounds strange to you- but being born having been pre-assigned a gender sounds very strange to me, honestly.”

 

“I’ve wondered about that- I was going to ask you that eventually. I’ll come back to that at the office in a few days, remind me, because I don’t have my notebook now. But- you didn’t piece that together? What do you mean?”

 

“Well, when I take a form, I’ve got pretty much two options- mimic something, or create the whole thing from scratch. Obviously, mimicking is easier- it’d be like if I asked you to trace a picture compared to asking you to draw it freehand completely from memory.”

 

“So you’re mimicking someone right now? Who?” Mark asked. He sounded quite astonished.

 

“A dead Hibernian prince. Well, the youngest prince. He was the runt of the family, the youngest of five boys, and was completely mad. He summoned me and told me his true name- demons can only take the form of a human if we know your true name, as I’m sure you know- and beseeched me to take his form and use it to assassinate his entire family. I did, with a bit more enthusiasm than was necessary, but I was young and this all happened millennia ago. All four brothers, the father, the uncles, the mother and aunts and grandparents. I killed them all. And the mad runt prince, I killed him too. I knew his name, I could break his bindings, so I devoured him, still laughing, and the killing of my master released me. I was summoned back fairly quickly- I was fairly well known in those parts, I’d served that family for centuries, but it was still satisfying. But the mad runt prince, this is his body.”

 

Mark had moved on to inspect the tomatoes, and glanced up at him with wide eyes, freezing his vegetable examination. “You’re wearing a dead kid?”

 

“S’right. But he’s been dead for a long time.”

 

“That doesn’t make it better. That makes it worse, even. Creepy.”

 

“If you tell me you’re true name, I can take your form, if you’d like,” Jack said coyly, cocking his head and fluttering his eyelashes.

 

Mark didn’t even dignify that with a response. “No, really though. That’s creepy. But also kind of interesting. You’re walking around with the face of a millennia-dead mad runt prince.”

 

“I like it. He was batshit, but he was sound in body. He had this bright cheerful smile and loud laugh that made him seem trustworthy and friendly, but there was always something about the brightness of his eyes, or the shape of his chin- something that hinted at intelligence and violence. His expressions were highly emotive, too. So I decided to mimic it and use his body. It’s very functional. Not exactly gorgeous, but not hard on the eyes, either. I can disappear into a crowd easily.”

 

Mark shrugged and went back to the vegetables. “I wouldn’t say gorgeous, but it’s a fairly attractive face, I find. The brows are highly expressive, the facial structure is pretty good, and the eyes are a really nice blue- striking, even. Did he have that facial hair, or did you decide on that alteration yourself?”

 

“He did.”

 

“Well. Mad and ancient, but it translates to modern standards of attractiveness fairly well.”

 

“Glad to have your approval,” Jack laughed. Mark looked up from the garlic display for a moment to flash him a wide, toothy smile.

 

Jack did all his duties. He got a bit better at driving, he got a lot better at modern cooking and cleaning, he answered questions and worked with Mark to help his research.

 

There was one duty that was going neglected, though. Body guard.

 

Eventually, he got to fulfill this duty as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So who's all going to the markiplier tour liveshows? Not me! East coast is the b(worst)est isn't it? Oye. I actually have to fly out west in a few days for a seminar, so if anyone knows what's fun in Fargo, let me know!


	4. The Wager

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'I'll update on tuesdays' WELL THAT WENT WELL  
> Yeah, it's not Tuesday. I just got busy with work- the first greenhouse of minitubers just came in, and one of my autoclaves broke, so now I've got to walk over to the containment facility whenever I need to sterilize media or trash... anyways. The usual. I likely won't update next week on Tuesday, I'm flying out for a seminar in North Dakota and I'm not sure if I'm going to bring my laptop or not.

There was one duty that was going neglected, though. Body guard.

 

Eventually, he got to fulfill this duty as well.

 

 

 

 

Jack had spent centuries working in the world of the power hungry magicians. They tended to turn on each other, to not befriend but ally, and to put ambition above morality. This decade of magicians was no different than any other. They all smiled and invited each other to drinks and laughed and worked together, but beneath their smiles and suits, they were constantly assessing each other’s weaknesses, looking for who to step on in order to ascend. And they always thought they were so clever, often dropping hints and taunts to let their prey know they weren’t safe. They liked to play with their food.

 

Jack had seen this habit fuck over magicians for millennia, and this decade of magicians was no different than any other.

 

So it was abundantly clear to him when an understudy in Mark’s office gave him a long-winded and oily toast that the man was had marked his master.

 

Jack studied him in his periphery. The old understudy was exactly the type of opponent Jack knew Mark would rally. An older man with graying hair and a face that said he’d seen some shit. A once-victor who had been given his medals and his awards for being such a good magician, and then shuffled out of the spotlight to make way for someone younger and not yet used up. Suddenly aware that he’d worked his ass off for nothing and was being usurped by these ungrateful no-good children who hadn’t seen a moment of strife in their lives, he was furious. Jack had been keeping an eye on these types for a bit- the Demonology department was frequently looking for understudies and interns (they were constantly getting eaten or blown up or incinerated or otherwise destroyed by experiments gone wrong) and it was a good place for the government to stick people it had to keep around, but didn’t really want anymore.

 

This old man had been burned by the very organization he’d given his life to, and like most humans, he was going to blame it not on the organization, but on those goddamn kids.

 

Specifically, his new supervisor, Mark.

 

 

 

After the dinner, as Jack was manhandling the car back to Mark’s house, he gently broached the topic.

 

“That guy who said all those nice things about you in that toast-,”

 

“He’s going to try and kill me,” Mark said flatly. Jack blinked, and appraised him. Mark sighed. “It’s obvious. I’m not stupid, he hates me and he was just being passive aggressive. I mean, he called me ‘the blossoming star flower of the department’, who actually says shit like that? I think he was trying to undermine my masculinity as well. Calling me a flower. Like, oh, I’m so offended,” Mark snorted.

 

“Didn’t realize you’d pick up on that.”

 

“Of course. Do most magicians not?”

 

“Honestly, no. All they pick up on is the praise. Stroke their ego, and they don’t notice anything else. Head in the clouds.”

 

“Well, I’m very aware that I have a target on my back, and I pay attention. I want you and the imps on high alert tonight, though I don’t think he’s going to make a move so soon. I know he’ll want to make his move at night, though- he thinks that there’s a proper way to kill your supervisor, and it’ll be some reptilian dagger-wielding demon that will appear in the night and before he slits my throat, he’ll say something like ‘Master Richard sends his regards’, like it’s a black and white movie or something. Idiot.”

 

“What are you going to do, then?”

 

“Tomorrow at work, I’ll summon you into the building in the private room, and release you from your pentacle to go spy on Richard. The old man, that’s his name. Do so invisibly and without him detecting your presence. I’ll lay out the full commands tomorrow when I summon you. I’ll want you to find out when and how he plans on taking me out.”

 

“Yeah, but then what? Are you going to kill him first?”

 

Mark wrinkled his nose.

 

“Oh c’mon. I know you’re not a kid, but you’ve got to kill him. This is the job you wanted, these are the people you’ve thrown your lot in with. If you don’t kill him, then he’ll kill you. That’s how this works, you knew that when you joined up,” Jack scoffed.

 

“I’ll think of something else. Get some evidence and get him incarcerated or something,” Mark said dismissively.

 

“You’re not going to make it far with this mercy idea. If you want to get to the top, you’ve got to get blood on your hands. The ones with true power have it because they built a staircase of corpses to climb up to the top. And they keep the body count going higher.”

 

“I won’t sacrifice my morality for power, or else I’m no better than them.”

 

“But you are one of them. Or you will be, eventually. You put yourself on the path to become one of them, and this is how you do it. There is no moral high road here. There’s the one path and you’ll never get anywhere if you don’t take it.”

 

“I’m going to prove you wrong,” Mark said confidently.

 

“I’ll take that wager. You’ll kill people- maybe not today or tomorrow, but you’ll not keep your hands clean forever.”

 

“Wager accepted.”

 

Jack usually liked to gamble, and he liked to win, but he was surprised to feel a tad conflicted. He liked winning… but Mark was starting to grow on him. Slave dynamic aside, he truly wanted to help people, he wanted to understand demons, and he wanted to be successful. He didn’t crave power for the sake of power, he just enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment, and thought that there were changes that needed to be made with the workings of the world, and if nobody else was stepping up to the plate to progress the world, then he would take a swing at it. He genuinely believed the best in people (to a point- he was also realistic, as exemplified by his quick understanding that the old man wasn’t really complimenting him, he was delivering a veiled threat,) and always wanted to put his own best forward.

 

Jack wanted to win. But he also wanted this strange human, with all his empathy and compassion and optimism, to not be snuffed by the tide of blood and hate that this world ebbed with.

 

This realization kept Jack preoccupied through the long and uneventful night of being sentry. Mark was a human. Worse, he was a magician. He would live and die in a blink of Jack’s multiplanar inner eye, a short blip in his long existence, fleeting and meaningless, in the grand scheme of things. He was no emperor or czar or king, no high level demon, no god or angel. He was yet another naked and confused ape, only able to see an instant of the eternal time and planes that existed around him. Naked and confused and trying to make sense of that tiny piece.

 

Jack’s only business was business. He would serve his commands, and when they were either fulfilled or failed and the magician died, he would serve someone else’s commands. He didn’t need to invest himself in Mark’s life. Whether Mark would win or lose the wager should mean nothing to Jack.

 

Jack just liked an underdog. Everyone did. That was probably all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did any of you folks get to see the You're Welcome show? We gotta convince him to come to the east coast next time they tour!! I'll drive all the way down to Boston, if need be!


	5. jest scalp 'im good, man, solves all ye probs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am never flying delta again. rip me. 12 hours stuck at LaGuardia on the way out, and another 8 stuck in Minneapolis on the way back. Flights at both 5AM and midnight. Delays, rebooking. General hell. My trip went a day longer than it was supposed to. Absolute hell.
> 
> So yeah, I did not post last week. Sorry. On the plus side, MSP airport has a therapy dog program so I got to lie on the floor with the sweetest golden retriever and have a good cry. I missed my dog and cat.

In the morning, he went about ordering the imps and preparing breakfast as usual, before going to wake Mark. He rapped on the door and entered, to find the young magician already sitting up in bed, awake and reading a heavy tome in his lap in the dim room.

 

“Mornin,” Jack greeted, going to open the curtains. “You’re gonna go blind like that.”

 

Mark flushed. “I’m what?”

 

“It’s bad for your eyes to try and read in the dark. Strains them. Or that’s what I hear. You humans are so fragile,” Jack explained. Mark rolled his eyes and turned a page, somewhat ignoring him. “I suppose you’ll want me to shake the page dandruff from the sheets before you sleep again? That thing looks ancient and grubby.”

 

“I didn’t sleep much.”

 

“Thought you said you were  _ sure _ Richard wouldn’t make a move yet.”

 

“I am sure. But I’m also paranoid.”

 

“Good. That’ll keep you alive a bit longer.” Jack began to select Mark’s clothes from his wardrobe. “You’ll be wanting to wear lots of red- hides the bloodstains. For when you get killed to death.”

 

“Don’t be such a smartass,” Mark scoffed, finally setting the book aside and stretching. “I think I might have a way to keep Richard from killing me.”

 

“Me too. Kill him first,” Jack suggested brightly.

 

“You can bind demons to things, right? It’s one of the most basic magics. Binding imps to reflective objects makes a scrying glass, binding pixies to weapons makes them poisonous, binding higher level spirits to wearable accessories makes amulets to resist physical blows or magic. But binding humans isn’t really done.”

 

“Lucky you. I’ve had several good friends be bound to ugly necklaces and turned into amulets. Terrible way to live- trapped and sapped and never able to return home.”

 

“Right. Well, I might be able to to combine a few magics that work on humans with an open ended binding spell and create a way to trap him.”

 

“In a little glass jar that you can shake like a firefly bottle?” Jack said hopefully.

 

“Maybe something like that.”

 

“Isn’t it just nicer to kill him off quick, rather than bind him to an eternity of suffering?”

 

“No. He’s not immortal like you spirits, it’s not for an eternity.”

 

“Still. That’s pretty harsh.”

 

Mark shrugged as he began to change out of his bedclothes. “I’m trying to figure out how exactly to do this. Humans have form as well. When you bind a spirit-”

 

“You don’t have to explain, I know. Our essence isn’t substantial like you guys, we can change shape and size, so when we’re bound, we can either miniaturize or we can just exist as pseudo-fluid essence. I know, I’m not a student. So what’s going to happen when you bind him?”

 

“I might do a partial binding. See if, rather than binding him to an object, I can bind him to himself. Specifically, his lower jaw to his upper, and maybe his hands to each other. If he can’t speak or gesture, he can’t do any magic. Then he’s essentially harmless. There’s another few binding types I’ll be looking into today… but that’s the basic plan.”

 

“This all seems awfully complicated. Why can’t you just command me to cut out his tongue?”

 

“Gross. And violent. Also very traceable, as he could easily write a description of his assailant. I can’t be connected to this in any way. So if a custom and never before seen magic renders him mute from a distance, I’m fine. There are two ways to bind him- with his true name, or with a bit of his hair and blood. Which is where you come in.” Jack perked up, fantastical images of ripping the guy’s hair and scalp and maybe his entire head off and bringing it to Mark, solving all of their problems while getting both hair and blood- two birds with one stone!

 

“I’ll do that, then-,”

 

Mark put up a hand, and Jack sighed, tossing his shirt at him. “I know what you’re up to. I’ll give a proper command in a pentacle, with all the proper restrictions.”

 

“Phooey. Spoil-sport.”

 

“Gee, I’m so sorry I’m keeping you from murdering an old man.”

 

“Murdering a  _ murderous _ old man.”

 

Mark shook his head with exasperation and dropped the argument, letting Jack do up his cufflinks and shoes in silence. True to his word, Mark opted to eat his breakfast in his personal pentacle in the office, while giving Jack a thorough command in regards to getting hair from Richard. He couldn’t see any loopholes, unfortunately. Mark continued to give him commands that would carry out for the whole day, and his intention pressed heavily down on Jack’s essence, binding him to remain unseen, to not reveal their plan or himself, to not harm, to do these above all else save for Mark’s protection- that remained the priority.

 

“Now then. When I summon you into the building, I’ll use a more private pentacle so nobody will see you go. When you’re done, reveal yourself to me- and  _ only me _ \- and we’ll resume a normal day. I’ll likely be in the library. Demonology department- we’ve got the best stocked library in the entire government,” Mark said proudly.

 

“I can promise you I’ve seen better,” Jack scoffed. Mark, ever the scientist, was intrigued.

 

“Did you ever get a chance to see the Library of Alexandria?”

 

“Yeah, but that’s not what I’m talking about. People always talk up stuff once it’s lost, the only reason it’s famous is because of it’s destruction. Honestly, it was pretty much a shack piled high with scrolls. No organization at all. Not even proper shelves. You wanna talk about nice libraries, let’s talk about the Byzantine empire. Content was crap- all they wrote were historical descriptions and encyclopedias- but it was massive. And gorgeous. And well organized.”

 

Mark blinked at him. “Alexandria was really that bad? How come I’ve never heard of a Byzantine library?”

 

“The coastlines were a bit different back then. Constantinople is awfully close to the sea- and the library was right up on the beach, practically. And the storm was a real whopper, something right out of biblical legend.”

 

“What were you doing there?”

 

“Basic soldier gig. That’s mostly all we ever did in the AD times- either a soldier or a hard labor slave. Often both. Everyone wanted to build their world to the sky. People dreamed big, then. Their eyes were upwards, not on the ground. They wanted to touch the sky,” Jack said, surprising himself with how fond his voice was. He shook his head and followed Mark out of their pentagrams. “You’ve got egg yolk on your cheek. Here.”

 

Mark laughed, and then their day of subterfuge began.

 

It immediately went wrong- Mark didn’t summon him until nearly noon, and looked stressed beyond belief.

 

“I couldn’t get a quiet room- we had another intern screw up a summoning and I had to send notice to the family. It’s awfully routine now- ‘Dear so-and-so, we regret to inform you about so-and-so’s accident, they have been transported to the magical medical unit and are expected to eventually make a full recovery. Regards, Mark.’ We’re probably what’s keeping the magical medical unit afloat. I swear. And the family always freaks- this time it was the girl’s father who came in, ready to go fist-to-cuffs with the first employee he saw. Thankfully, it wasn’t me this time, but…” he shook his head and wiped his hand over his forehead, leaving a streak of chalk dust in his dark hair. Jack chose to not point it out.

 

“And everyone wants to talk about the upcoming budget. It’s not being written for months still! Why are we talking about it? And then I was helping Rose draw a triple pentagram, a real complicated Aristotlean one, and her boyfriend brought her a coffee and now he thinks I’m out to steal her or some shit. Can’t a girl and guy be around each other without it being considered a romantic interations? It’s just… ugh. Anyways. We’re here now. And now we’re a bit limited for time- he always leaves at ten to five, sneaking out the door early like he’s so important. Go ahead and do what I directed.”

 

“Trust me, this is gonna be the smoothest part of your day. Just kick back and let ol’ Jackaboy do his thing. Easy as cake,” Jack reassured him as he dwindled his form to a spider and headed out.

 

Famous last words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanna write a few shorts about the Egos, while that's fresh on my mind and trendy. Any prompts? Stuff you wanna see written? I might take you up on them! (No smut requests though, my little ace heart has a hard time writing that <3 please and thanks)


	6. Subterfuge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suuuuuuck. At updatinggggg. Yikes.
> 
> I probably shouldn't be updating right now. I'm supposed to be scrubbing the lab to an inch of it's life in preparation for a tour of politicians later this week. I've got 1500 leaves coming in for testing tomorrow. I have greenhouse maitenence next week, the industry dinner in a few days, and the biggest race I've been training for all season on Saturday.
> 
> But this is how it goes, right? Got free time and access to a computer? No writing inspiration to be found. Driving, or busy, or at work? Here, have ALL the writing ideas! Ugh.

“Trust me, this is gonna be the smoothest part of your day. Just kick back and let ol’ Jackaboy do his thing. Easy as cake,” Jack reassured him as he dwindled his form to a spider and headed out.

 

Famous last words.

 

Richard was a paranoid sonuvabitch, and probably had PTSD to boot. Jack regretted not asking Mark a bit more about him, but now there was no time. Humans were creatures of habit, and his past would’ve likely helped him figure out how his defences would be best breached, but no matter. Jack knew he could do it anyways. The old man might have seen some shit, but he’d probably only seen a bit over half a century, and had only seen it with two eyes. Jack had seen some shit too- a few millennia of shit- and had seen it all with hundreds of different eyes, looking across seven planes of reality.

Mark had said he was probably just in his office, but Jack had seen many a demon get a severe ass-kicking because they trusted a probably. He wanted to check the man’s schedule and see where to find him and who else to expect.

Jack made a beeline (or spiderline, so to speak) for the front lobby. Sure enough, from a high corner of the front room, he could see a calendar book on one of the front desks. He just had to get close enough to read it without the secretary seeing. She was wearing strong glasses that had the particular magical glare of a three-plane viewing pane. Jack could easily go invisible on the first plane, and he could remain unseen on the second as well, but to be completely undetectable on the third wasn’t doable- he didn’t know any demons who could. He would just be a haze, like a gout of hot air on pavement, but the secretary was likely well trained. With glasses like that, she was obviously the guard dog.

Further evidence of her guard dog status was the one-use amulet on her charm bracelet. It was a basic one-hit amulet, something that was powerful in a sort of acute way. It could absorb a massive first hit and would be damn near impossible to overwhelm, but it only could take a single hit- after the one, it was useless. Just enough for her to sound the alarm.

Jack could see on the fifth and higher planes a haze coming from the front edge of the desk, and from the top drawer as well. He was impressed- he never understood why people saved their most powerful moves for last. To come out swinging hard right up front was to minimize losses and flatten the opponent before they could get much damage done. And with her elegant outfit, sleek bound back hair, and perfectly chip-free painted nails, he had no doubt she was ready to cover her station. An obvious approach would get him dunked on.

 

He waited.

 

After nearly half an hour, someone finally came in. Jack thanked his lucky stars- he had been hoping for someone low class. Mark had said their intern was gone and they would hire new, and the interns who worked here were generally folk who just needed money and didn’t want to join the army. The man coming in was really hardly more than a boy, and he had an imp hovering just over his shoulder. The imp was bristling with hooks and barbs, no doubt trying to look more menacing than he was.

Imps were low level demons. Too low to really be considered demons. They were fine watchdogs, could usually see up to the fourth or fifth plane, and could follow menial orders, but they were often rude and crude and weak, as well as ugly and generally single-formed. Unlike Jack, with his power and magical prowess and malleable essence that could take whatsoever form he desired. If his interaction ban wasn't in place, he would've had the boy by the ear and the imp by the tail, and probably would've devoured the latter, absorbing the imp's essence and destroying it.

But. Hands off today.

Jack didn’t listen to a word the boy or secretary said- he hid himself from perception as best as he could up to the third plane, snuck up behind the boy and his imp, and simply seized the imp. Before the conveniently football-sized creature could shriek, Jack chucked it right at the secretary’s face.

It smacked right into her, as it was a physical attack and not something the amulet could protect from. The sound of the collision was incredibly satisfying, the sound of one soft body thunking into another.

The imp shrieked, the secretary shrieked, the boy shrieked, and to make it even better, all those barbs were now tangled in the secretary’s now imperfect ponytail, and the boy had launched himself over the desk to try and pull the imp free, and the secretary was telling him to stop pulling. It was comical, embarrassing, and stupid, certainly stupid enough for the secretary to not press the alarm. To call in emergency security for an imp stuck in her hair? Nobody would be called. Jack slipped around the loud chaotic tangle of woman, man, and imp, and looked up Richard on the calendar.

 

He had no meetings or appointments today- he would be in his office, alone, all afternoon. That was good, as Jack would only have to deal with him, but also bad, because a meeting might’ve meant his security was down. He left the squirming and screaming ball of people and headed for the office.

 

The first thing he encountered was a basic shield.

It was oblong and brightly visible on the second plane- the old man didn't want subtle traps and security, he wanted a big DANGER KEEP OUT sign, and this shield was absolutely the magical equivalent to that. It's epicenter was the door- the only route in and out of the office.

It was a common mistake to make. Jack changed forms to a dull brown termite and set at the corner of the wall. No need to break the shield- he would just go around. Easy.

The next was the sensor. It was gauzy and faintly glittering on the third plane, not a solid bright mass like the shield was. This was much better security. Jack’s estimation of the man went up a smidge. The sensor was carefully wrapped around the office in more of a rectangular shape, slotted right inside the walls where it could remain unseen. It would alert the caster- undoubtedly Richard- if any magical items or beings passed through. Jack knew he would set it off if he continued, but luckily, he knew just what to do.

 

He scraped at the plaster with a dry foreleg, making a pile of dust. Once he deemed there enough, he spat into it several times, until he could mix it into a clay-like texture. Then he carefully covered himself in it, applying thick gobs of the stuff to himself until he was completely covered.

Homemade shield intact, he stiffly shuffled through the sensor, trying not to move any of his plaster coating. It was a simple and foolish trick that was really meant to catch demons, not objects- for instance, if Mark were to try and bring a powerful incendiary wand into Richard’s office, all he would need to do is put it in a metal lunchbox, or in a bottle of water. The sensor could penetrate porous things like cloth or most organic material, but any metals, liquids, or synthetic material inhibited it’s function. Jack just had to make a nice thick paste with the plaster and he was fine.

Now he burrowed through the inner layer of the wall, careful to pull any debris into the hole, rather than allowing it to fall outside. His caution proved highly important, as just on the inside of the wall was a fireline. Any living creature that stepped over the line while it was active would ignite the entire thing, and probably themselves as well. Richard no doubt had it activated.

 

This was a bit more tricky.

 

Damn Mark and his commands. Jack could simply cast an elemental shield of the water type, step over the line unharmed, punch Richard out before he could respond, and snuff the whole thing with nobody the wiser- but he would be detected by Richard for an instant, and Mark had declared no detection permitted.

The fireline wasn’t pressed against the wall, though. Richard was paranoid and fairly strong, but he wasn’t all that clever. Or perhaps he was, but it just so happened that Jack was more clever still. A gap existed between the wall and the fireline, just small enough for a flea. It was tiring to hold such a small form- extremes took a bit more energy- but easily manageable. He dropped down beside the fireline and begun to study the weave of it.

 

Energy was thread, and magic wove it like cloth. The fireline was only visible as a thin red line on the floor circling the room on the first plane. On the second plane, a faint heat-haze was visible in the air above it. Third plane, the haze was more distinctive, and it continued up until the sixth plane, where the true intricacies of the world could be seen. Even so, Jack looked at the seventh, for the maximum amount of detail. On the seventh plane, the fire line was a translucent, gauzy thing, like a curtain that joined the ceiling and floor. Jack could see the threads of energy that were held in place by power and intention. Laws of the universe deemed that everything was always moving toward chaos and entrophy, but through magic, that entrophy could be held at bay, and order could be imposed on energy that much preferred to exist in a chaos state.

 

Mark was rubbing off on him. Damn scientist.

 

Jack studied the threads. Bit by bit, he searched for any loose spots, a place where the weave and control wasn’t so tight. It took well over an hour, but he finally found the best candidate- a spot near the ceiling, to Richard’s left and close to the door. The threads weren’t knit perfectly, and a miniscule gap existed. It was smaller than Jack’s flea shape, but he could make it work.

He conjured a small, delicate Breath (essentially, a very gentle Gust that was very easy to manipulate) and threaded it into the gap. Carefully, slowly, with the patience of the viking weavers of old, he added to the Breath here and there, expanding it in such a way that the threads weren’t triggered, only stretched and bent. It was nerve wracking work, but Jack had pulled this trick more than a few times. It took patience and light touch, which he had little of, and also determination, which he had massive reserves of.

When the Breath held the threads open enough, he simply became a fruit fly and zipped through. He left the Breath where it was. No doubt he’d need it in a moment.

 

Two barriers crossed. That was the end of the protective spells up. Now he just had to deal with the man himself. He expected it to be incredibly difficult.

 

A watch imp was on the corner of Richard’s desk, perched between a lamp and a large, ornate inkwell. It stayed perfectly still except for its tail, which was long and barbed and twitching behind it, nearly upending the inkwell every few seconds.

Jack gave him a hand with a much less gentle Breath.

The inkwell splashed over Richard’s desk- happily, it appeared the thing had been nearly full. Both imp and magician jumped up, and Jack quickly dropped to Richard’s collar, took spider form and used his clumsy mandibles to hack off a bit of hair. Clutching his prize, and careful not to drop it, he took the form of a blackfly (a bit bigger, but not much, and stronger than a fruit fly) and set course for the Breath hole he’d left.

Mission accomplished. He was glad all he needed was hair- he could see other defenses around the room, around his desk, over his paperwork. He had no doubt that Richard had another sort of alarm overlaying his very skin- it had become trendy, Mark informed him last night, to put triggers spells on oneself to summon something powerful if touched. But to lay a spell with the surface area able to cover each and every hair? That wasn’t really feasible. Jack filed that away in the back of his mind in case it was useful later.

 

He was pretty proud of himself as he headed for the library. Mark couldn't have picked a better demon. Jack wasn't usually one to brute force his way through things, nor was he stumped by obstacles or rules. He had been around for a very long time, and if he could have any type of specialization, it would be subterfuge. Sneaking. Quickly in, quickly out. Speed and cleverness, not bullying through like a drunken ox. He had picked up tricks, some he'd come up with himself, some he'd learned from others. A demon didn't get to be as old as he was with strength alone. And Jack knew that he wasn't the strongest of demons. Muscle and firepower, he actually lacked a bit, but the trick wasn't to work hard, it was to work smart.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr, thefauxfox is my name on there, and it's mostly just trash. But you're welcome to wade through the mire and come say hi!
> 
> ALSO! I am a super sucker for peer pressure, and I LOVE feedback. If we don't know what to correct ourselves on, how are we to improve? 
> 
> So let me know what you think- positive, negative, or just say hi and bully me into updating faster. I will likely cave!


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